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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24361783">Fallen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/skelli/pseuds/skelli'>skelli</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Musou | Fire Emblem Warriors</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Violence, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:09:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>18,051</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24361783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/skelli/pseuds/skelli</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>By the revival of the Chaos Dragon, Velezark, Chrom and some of his Shepherds are transported to another world through the opening of the Outrealm portals. They find they are not the only ones brought forth to the kingdom of Aytolis; a much grieved mage who was lost years past during the battle against Grima stands before Chrom to test his promises and conviction. </p>
<p>After all this time, is Chrom's grip strong enough to pull Robin up out of the darkness once more? Or will he find himself taking the life of the man he has loved like no other for the sake of defeating his greatest enemy?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Lianna and Rowan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Recently I finished playing Fire Emblem Warriors for the Chrobin content, haha. I wanted to try my hand at writing a multichapter, plot driven piece for them and I thought the world within this game was a great place to try! I wanted to write a little angst, and attempt writing Grima with Chrom. I have so many ideas of how I want them to interact! </p>
<p>This fic does have what I would call canon typical violence, battles and blood and death but nothing overly graphic. I have changed some details for the sake of my interpretation but it will loosely, and sometimes closely follow the game's flow. The rating will likely go up with further chapters. </p>
<p>I hope to get out the next chapter soon! Thanks for clicking on my work!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Flashing light, white as snow and a rushing around him like a strong wind right before a storm. Moving, the air is moving past him, further and further. He brings his arms up to hide his face, the shine so bright he can’t see. He has no words, hardly even a breath, coming down to a knee and finds grass below. </p>
<p>Chrom risks lowering his hands, eyes still sensitive and sees himself in a forest, trees speaking to a lazy wind along the bushes and grasses. He jerks up, surprised, and rises, turning widely about. He is alone, the evening taking the heat of day and hiding it away in the earth. He will not have much sun to venture back to society and he has no memory of this place. </p>
<p>Only moments ago he was at the castle! Quickly he moves through the easiest brush to find a path, a road, even a sign that he knows this place. At the table, still he can taste their dinner ale and bread lathered with butter and a sweet jam from the local village bought by Lissa, he was just sitting alongside his sister and oldest companion, Frederick. They were enjoying a slow and warm summer, one following several before and a great war and victory. Gods! Is Lissa alright?</p>
<p>“Lissa!” His voice rings out and scares a few birds but he receives no reply. He knows not of these flowers, although they move past him without a second glance, and he knows not why he is in a foreign place without explanation. The only thought at the forefront of his mind is to make sure of his companions and their safety. “Lissa!” </p>
<p>In the distance, familiarity answers him, quiet with their separation. “Chrom?” It lifts his spirits greatly, and he rushes forward, pushing tree branches out of the way with ease. “Lissa!” </p>
<p>Before he can see her, he hears her coming, the rustling of her dress on the bushes and along the forest floor. Her blond hair comes to view and in the clearing of several trees, he grabs her up with both arms, “Thank the Gods you are unharmed!” He says, her arms quickly coming around him as well in their affection. </p>
<p>“I was so worried!” She tells him, relief clear in her expression and tone. Even if they will not speak of it, the sparkle of tears has touched her eyes. From around the same tree, Frederick comes into view, brow harsh with the gravity of the situation but his eyes show an obvious reassurance with his king and princess in good conditions before him again. Chrom feels a great weight lift from his shoulders to see them both alive and well despite it all. He lowers Lissa carefully, keeping her close with his unshakeable protective nature. </p>
<p>“I have not the faintest idea of where we are.” </p>
<p>“I do not remember venturing out from the castle either.” Frederick confirms, and at the eerie coming of darkness in the unknown forest, Lissa comes closer to her older brother, “No way!” She takes hold of his arm. “Isn’t this just a bad dream?” Her pinches to her cheek only turn them pink. </p>
<p>“Possibly this is magic?” Chrom murmurs, thoughtful. If only Robin were here… the involuntary longing aches in his chest, making it hard to breathe a moment. He cannot escape these feelings and yet he doesn’t wish to be without it either. How unnatural it would be if he were to just…</p>
<p>Heavy footfalls echo into the forest not far from them, coming closer. The rattle of armor clinking together, and horses. They know it well; this is the sound of soldiers. Warily, Frederick comes forward, lifting his battle axe, “We should be careful, your highnesses.” Chrom gives him a nod, serious. He knows Ylisse is in a new time of peace after the Shepherds took their cause to Grima, and Robin’s promise. There should be no known soldiers walking on their lands. </p>
<p>Voices carry, with lilting accents he doesn’t know. Lissa has her staff gripped tightly in her hands. He wishes once more that his tactician was at his side, giving him strength and guidance and brutally feels the loss as if he were back on the battlefield long ago and could turn around and find... The brush rustles, and a cry startles all of them, their eyes flying to a figure tumbling from a low rising drop off half hidden in the branches and leaves. </p>
<p>He is young, wearing clothes made with careful hands and fine material, gold at the clasps and heavy on the embroidery. He does not seem to be a warlord or a mercenary but rather appears to be from royalty which confuses Chrom. He is wearing a headband for a royal crest he knows nothing about. But there is an innocence about the young man’s attitude as he grimaces and rolls up rubbing his back, like one of a boy who has known a great peace and trusts his land. The king is reminded of his younger days, when danger was not so powerful and companionship came easily. Even with everything that has happened, he knows he will never turn his back on those before him. </p>
<p>“That was quite a fall you took. Can you stand?” He asks, offering his hand, much to Frederick’s displeasure, “My lord!” He says in a sharp tone while Lissa peers about, trying to get a good look. </p>
<p>Surprised at their presence, the young man is hesitant to take it but he finds it warm and solid when he does. “Thank you.” His eyes are honest, if not vulnerable with his youth. He does not recognize Chrom nor his sister and even with Frederick’s common blood, in their celebrity as Shepherds and heroes of the land, one could not fathom not knowing their faces. He searches them, suspicious at their nice dress and weapons only to whirl around as another person comes sliding down to join from the small cliff side. </p>
<p>A young woman, similar in stature and appearance. She looks to be related to the young man, with her glimmering crown and strong, unwavering emerald eyes. She wears her shining cape with shoulders that carry weight, straight and forward, her stance one lacking in vulnerability. </p>
<p>“Who are these people?” She says, coming to the young man’s side protectively, as a sibling would. </p>
<p>Chrom meets their suspicions honestly, as he knows he has done for someone he loved, loves, deeply. “I am Chrom of the kingdom of Ylisse. We were once the militia band the Shepherds.” He explains, watching several guards come down out of the trees, spears raised to protect. Frederick, seeing this as well, steadies his weapon, ready to swing a blow at any moment over his lord’s shoulder. </p>
<p>Lissa, knowing her brother would lift his sword if need be, introduces herself as well, “And I am Lissa, Chrom’s sister and princess of Ylisse.” She gives a slight bow in the waning light, hair shining faintly against the burning, whispering reds of a dying sunset. </p>
<p>They are met with confusion, a glance between the two golden royals and a quick hand to hold back the soldiers coming to their aid by the woman. She turns her head to them, “Ylisse? I assume you mean to say that is your land..” </p>
<p>“You’ve never heard of Ylisse?” Lissa gasps, hand coming up to her mouth in her shock. </p>
<p>“We know nothing of such a place.” She confirms, tone gentle but clear. “Your clothes as well… they are clearly foreign. This Ylisse must be a country far away. You are in the kingdom of Aytolis. Do you know not of who we are?” Both sets of emerald eyes find the Shepherds, one in forthright confidence and the other in intelligent questioning. Voices call out from above them, saying words still unclear to their ears. </p>
<p>“We are the prince and princess of Aytolis.” She says with a simple and yet respectable pride, “We are Rowan and Lianna.” </p>
<p>Chrom has never heard such names nor such royalty in any history books, let alone seen a place called so on a map. Rowan’s self-assurance glowing in his expression dims at the silence between each party. Neither are aware of the other, nor of their importance. They truly are in another land, possibly one without any link back to their own. Why were they summoned here? </p>
<p>“Are you possibly lost?” Lianna asks, kindness showing through the tension. “It is already getting dark.” She turns to prove a point, seeing the sun now gone, and offers to the three, “Please, stay with us at camp. I can tell you are people of good hearts. Let’s enjoy a warm meal; I’m sure it will get colder as the night sets in.” </p>
<p>Rowan perks up, giving his sister a startled glance but then follows her lead in hospitality, “We can offer you tents and blankets!” Their simple goodwill brings forth a sense of relation despite the unfamiliarity around them, and Chrom remembers times he said the same things to those in need. </p>
<p>Frederick seems unconvinced, despite their lack of supplies and their even slimmer options. He tightens his grip, giving the royal siblings a hard appraisal. The sense of deja-vu is strong, one that makes him uneasy for Chrom. He looks to the strong back of his highness, his lord, and sees the ever positive, optimistic leader he’s known. Slowly, his axe lowers. </p>
<p>“We would appreciate that. I do believe we were meant to meet you. I don’t know why I feel this way but our paths were meant to cross.” The king says, smiling when Rowan bursts forward, eyes sparkling, “That’s it! I felt it, Lianna!” He whirls around to her, and then back to Chrom. </p>
<p>“What?” She asks, expression fondly searching.</p>
<p>“I had a sense! Maybe it’s because I’m the one carrying the shield, but something drew me to them! That’s why I felt I had to come down this way. That’s how we found each other. It’s as Chrom says! It’s fate!” His excitement is charming if not a tad childish and somehow reminds both men of Lissa only a few years back, if not still sometimes currently. She gives both of her companions a glance, noticing their softened looks. Fate… Chrom thinks, he has known of the power and the reality of such a thing. They shall believe this too to be a good and meaningful fate. </p>
<p>“Rowan? Lianna?” A voice calls up from the brush. A figure pushes a tree branch up so he can move down to where they are all gathered. His clothes are heavier, darker in color with a healthy white fur around the throat. The crown he wears with its claw like points is indication of a differing royal blood. He slides down keeping his balance well and looks across to the Shepherds. His eyes, angled with low eyelashes seem sharp, piercing. “Who are your new comrades?” He says, voice somehow altered, maybe politely guarded, or smoothed with practice.</p>
<p>“Darios! Sorry if we worried you,” Lianna says, “These are the Shepherds. They seem to have found themselves lost. We would like to hear of their situation and offer them a place of rest.” </p>
<p>The young man’s eyes touch on each Shepherd but strike Chrom, intense and unyielding, “Yes,” He murmurs slowly, a smile that at first echoes something excited even sinister turns pleasant and inviting, “Of course. We are just about halfway to the temple, our destination. There’s a spacious opening in the trees not far from here where many of those travelling between the main city and the temple stop to rest at night.” He gives a slight bow, greeting them from under his eyelashes, “I welcome you and your conversation to our camp. It will provide a comfort to us in these times.” </p>
<p>Rowan smiles, looking at his companion with eyes full of love and affection, “This is our childhood friend from the neighboring kingdom of Gristonne, Darios.” </p>
<p>Chrom’s gaze has hardened, but he returns the respect, “We appreciate your kindness and hospitality, Darios,” He turns to each royal member, “Lianna, Rowan. Let us share our stories. We cannot thank you enough that you would be willing to aid us strangers.” </p>
<p>They join the convoy, walking alongside the siblings and their friend towards the center of the group for protection. Lissa has already taken a liking to Lianna and they make charming conversation with each other, friendship blossoming healthily. Frederick walks close by, guard still completely intact despite their luck. Chrom finds himself reliving a spell when he was the one to take in a stranger in foreign robes and offer him a place to stay. If he closes his eyes… </p>
<p>The camp is built with smooth precision. The two royal twins find being out under the stars as a novelty, telling of how their mother is queen to a land of great peace and prosperity. They have been training dutifully, knowing little of the mercenary lifestyle in practice although Rowan beats his chest with a proud fist to announce his plans of becoming a warrior and a knight to the kingdom. His dreams are grand, told with such confidence over the fire and the grilled bird that Chrom can’t help but smile. </p>
<p>They are young and remind him of himself; the times he learned of leadership on the field and found the open roads, no matter the burden of his duty, freeing and exciting. When he was just beginning to form his Shepherds and learn of the world. They eat alongside each other, hot spiced tea sitting in their metal mugs while they grow closer by their words. Lianna shares the torment of leaving their mother to the attack on the castle by Darios’ home country and how they are to take the sacred and unimaginably important Shield of Flames to the temple in order to bring forth its magic power and keep it out of the Gristonne’s King’s grasp. Darios stays decidedly quiet through much of the twins’ sharing, his gaze hidden in his cup. He appears appropriately muted by his father’s devastation to the pact of peace and their friendship with Aytolis. He has chosen to support his friends and his moral code by offering his help and blade, even against betrayal to his country and his own father. Nothing can be said to the pain he must be enduring. </p>
<p>To bring forth answers, and protection for their home, Lianna and Rowan have taken upon themselves courage in the face of uncertainty and Chrom knows they will make great leaders someday. He tells them of how he and his Shepherds have also ridden forward into darkness against the odds, defeating the cursed dragon, Grima, to bring Ylisse back into the light. Their trials against kings lost in madness, power hungry and devious in their status, and the allies they created along the way, offering their lives to a matter of the land’s security and future are spoken of with gesture and importance. Lianna is moved to tears, her honest nature sympathetic and clear like lake water on a still day. Rowan is inspired, his eyes moist by the emotion in Chrom’s stories, but he tries for strength and optimism. </p>
<p>By the fire, with their stomachs full and their bedrolls waiting, Chrom feels he is here for a reason. He is lucky to have by his side those who have always had his back. Seeing the young burning passion for justice and the desire to protect, he sees his Shepherds again. While it is not the full band of his greatest companions and it is certainly not complete without a certain someone, he cannot help but be brought back to life in many ways; pushing forward by his sword, away from kingly duties and quiet hallways with too many echoing memories, he finds himself beginning to warm deeply, a place that has been cold for much too long. </p>
<p>“I know you have few answers to why you are here and I’m sure that is at the forefront of your minds,” Lianna says, her hands clasped together, “But upon hearing of your victories and your abilities, we would like to ask you lend our strength if not just for the part of our journey we spend together.” Her hands come upon Lissa’s, taking them, and Lissa turns her head to Chrom, passionate and invested. </p>
<p>“Oh, Chrom! We mustn’t just leave them!” </p>
<p>Chrom looks warmly to his sister and the imploring young princess, “You’re right, Lissa. We cannot just walk away from people in need.” He sets down his cup, empty, and straightens, “We most certainly will accompany you to the temple.”</p>
<p>Both twins beam, faces bright in the fire, the gold on their outfits gleaming like shining stars.</p>
<p>Frederick cuts in, armor loud against the wooden seat as he stands, “Your highness, just a moment. Is it not dangerous to trust strangers outright,” His eyes flick over to the twins who are looking at him with big, innocent eyes, “Even if their story is compelling?” He adds. His natural suspicion has always kept Chrom from a percentage of dangers and even now, despite their fates being brought together by a clearly strong magic, Frederick’s logic remains true. </p>
<p>“You make a point, Frederick.” The king concedes, “But I cannot be in a world where we refuse someone help when they ask for it. I believe we will find answers beside Lianna and Rowan.”</p>
<p>Darios speaks up, the first words he’s had throughout the evening. His expression is shadowed by his shoulder against the fire, spikey with the fur of his collar. “It might be worth your trouble to aid us. The temple is one of great old knowledge and could have some information on the reason you have been brought here. Whether it be magic,” His dark eyes gleam in the light, “Or something else entirely.” </p>
<p>Rowan jumps up, excited, “Of course! There is an entire library! Histories and written records!” He whirls around to Frederick, “You might find there is a spell to fix your problem!” He is unfazed by being questioned or rather could not take it too seriously with his mind made up from the start. “You simply must join us! You will be great allies!” </p>
<p>A certain loud and wildly charming red head comes to mind, and Frederick’s high cheeks turn the faintest of colors, moved by the honesty of a young warrior’s heart. “Well, I suppose it would be beneficial to both parties…” He is weak to the strength of honesty when spoken so clearly. There is no possible way these two young royals have ill intent towards them and the admiration feels nice too.</p>
<p>Chrom shares a chuckle with Lianna and Lissa who lightheartedly says, “Frederick may seem intimidating but you can convince him with a little pushing!” Both girls laugh even more, happy amongst new and old friends. They talk further into the night, even after Chrom retires to his tent. Frederick goes to see the horses of Aytolis and familiarize himself with their tools and supplies, likely still a little restless.  </p>
<p>Under the warm fabric with a simple lantern and his thoughts, Chrom sees late nights similar to this one- beneath stars and when the world has gone quiet, he talks to his lover and whispers into their ears as they laugh and he pulls them to the slightly too small bedroll for two… sleeping tangled, close enough to feel another heartbeat and more content than he’s ever been… Pulling an arm over his eyes, he wills Robin not to haunt him tonight, for he worries the familiarity will be too painful to wake up and still be alone. A smile, and a lamp burning into the night by the sound of a pen scratching gently, thoughtfully, he has all these places to return to when he hurts so much his chest caves under his emotions. He turns to his side, faces the tent wall and wishes for sleep. </p>
<p>In his dreams, he is running across a field. The grass is long and heavy against his legs, pushing him back like waves in deep water. The sun is failing, the light turning orange and dusky. But he can see him! He can see Robin, those dark robes, just in the distance. The sun is burning around him, keeping him in sight, fire about Robin’s shoulders.</p>
<p>Chrom tries to call but no matter how much he shouts, Robin won’t turn to him. The stars are finding their way back into the sky and as the sun dies, Robin fades, more and more, until he’s barely discernable against the darkening night. Won’t his legs carry him faster! His breath pricks his lungs, sharp and piercing. He almost tumbles, legs shaking, weakened with the effort and when he pulls his head up, the world is black above him. So black every star has been blotted out and when he stares, blood red, shining with life, stares back at him. Another eye, another eye-</p>
<p>
  <em>Grima!</em>
</p>
<p>He jerks awake, twisting out of the blankets that threaten to tangle and capture for those devilish eyes to smother him. His breath is shallow, hard in his chest, and he gasps, terror filling him before he can tell reality is still about him and it is not a dragon. Light of morning is illuminating the space of his tent and outside noises of soldiers and breakfast and packing come through the cloth muffled. Chrom breathes, shoulders tight for another moment. He has not felt such a presence in his dreams since before they had defeated Grima, and the demon had.. But that enormity! That pressure! He collects himself, dresses and rolls the bedroll tight.</p>
<p>It was as if Grima was just here again. </p>
<p>Unable to shake the ominous sensation, Chrom distractedly eats breakfast alongside his still sleepy sister and Rowan, who is yawning more than he is getting food into his mouth. Frederick pulls forward a horse for each of his highnesses, insisting they ride and save their energy. Across the darkened fire pit, Lianna is discussing the temple, which she has only visited in times of worship alongside her mother, with Darios. He is holding the map, angling it so she can see as well. In the daylight fear is tamed but something has taken ahold of Chrom and he can’t shake it even if there is no darkness for it to still hide in. </p>
<p>While they ride, the shadows of summer leaves flutter across their faces and a wondrous sense of quiet falls upon them. They have all lived in times of great comfort and despite the knowledge of what has transpired hanging far like a storm cloud in the sky, it is necessary simply to find the beauty along the way for their courage. Lissa talks of the flowers, amazed at their shades of pink and white, so delicate and yet alive in the hot weather. Her brother is terribly grateful for her optimism and thinks of how Robin felt all the times the dread held his voice and he himself lifted both their spirits. Of the strength of love. He looks to her pretty smile, her horse proudly keeping line even with her distraction.  </p>
<p>Up ahead, as the dirt path becomes more trodden and dense, lines of buildings comes into view. The stables for the temple animals and for travelers’ horses, the small cabins for those working the fields to hide from the midday sun and fencing to keep wandering cows close by. Surprisingly there is not a single animal resting in the shade nor even one distant figure of a stable hand. </p>
<p>“Strange…” Darios says, pulling the reigns of his own horse to straighten its path so he can see clearer, “There appears to be no one present…” His brow is pinched, the sun bearing down on it as well as his concern. He looks over his shoulder to Lianna and Rowan, who are searching the scenery as well. This break in the trees exposes the silence of the land, except for the cry of a few birds taking flight across the fields.</p>
<p>Suddenly a soldier from further ahead shouts, “Smoke! There’s smoke!” </p>
<p>The grey, blackening cloud eerily rises up from the next line of trees still blocking their way before the temple comes into view. As they watch, it grows, puffing with power and intensity alongside now smaller coils erupting elsewhere. A booming bell begins to clang, echoing far into the air; the sound of danger.</p>
<p>“The temple!” Lianna says, her feet repositioning in the stirrups for a stronger grip by her thighs, “The temple is under attack!” She rises in her saddle, voice clear and controlled, “We must hurry to the temple’s aid! There is no time to lose!” She turns to Chrom, her eyes fierce but unclouded, “Please lend us your blade!” </p>
<p>He offers her the quickest word of assent, giving both Frederick and Lissa a knowing look which they return, serious and determined. They will go into battle to defend the temple. Drawing down on their horses, the party rides amongst their soldiers, their footfall triumphant and powerful. The distance they must travel becomes a place to steel their hearts, find courage in their cause and make peace. If they fall here, it will be for a righteous justice. Along the pounding of hooves and hard, rolling muscle, a motion is born and even Lissa, who always light heartedly complains after riding hard, is tight and one with the horse. Ahead the trees are cutting, thinning to make space for the temple’s wide bearing walls and towers. </p>
<p>Fire is burning, the heat blazing as red as the uniforms of the enemy. Gleaming armor of Gristonne knights, hellishly bright like fresh blood, threaten to take them down by wide sweeping spears. Soldiers have taken towers, filling the doorways and pinning the priests to their knees with blades at their throats. While there are forces there to defend, they are few and outnumbered, the sweat and grime on their brows a heavy burden to their exhausted fight. Chrom can see Aytolis men and women flinch at the gruesome sight, the brutality and the scorched earth so he calls up, “Be not afraid!” Lifting Falchion high into the sky to shine with the light of day and their promised victory, “Know that your prince and princess stand before you! Aid them and bring back the peace your land knows!” </p>
<p>Lianna’s horse rides up to his side, as well as Rowan’s, and the tremble in his hand, while unnoticed by his men, is visible to Chrom. The prince finds his strength to bring up his own blade, eyes blazing with the adrenaline, fear and need for bravery, “Fight for Aytolis!” He calls, voice carrying despite the tremor in his heart. His dream of becoming a knight begins today, Chrom thinks as he looks on as their words ripple and those around lift their weapons, impassioned by their leaders standing tall for them. Lianna turns to him, puts a hand out and they hold onto each other, finding the strength to fight forward. </p>
<p>“For Aytolis!” She cries, her sword in hand, cape flying in the hot winds still carrying embers. </p>
<p>The voices of their soldiers’ boom after her, “For Aytolis!” Both siblings rush onward, true to their word, cutting through several unsuspecting guards to take back the entrance. They will need to slice through the first wall of defense, break apart the enemy lines and create confusion to disable the terror of the attack. Gristonne’s forces rise to their challenge, knights clanging their heavy shields in a resounding drum. Chrom looks to Frederick, and then to Lissa and he says over the noise, “Be safe.” </p>
<p>“You as well, your highness!” Frederick calls, Lissa nodding, “We must protect these people!” </p>
<p>Above head a shadow flies over top, the shrill battle cry of a pegasus rippling down to them. Their eyes travel up to see a flash of white and red, the shine of a weapon gleaming to them. They know this Pegasus knight well, her loose ruby hair an encouraging reminder of her passion and strong heart. “It’s Cordelia!” Lissa cries, the relief, the sheer awe in her voice reverberating through Chrom twice over. She has been in battle already, the smear of red on her pegasus’ feet both heart wrenching and invigorating. </p>
<p>“Let us join her! I believe she will find the reinforcements heartening!” Chrom sets his horse to motion, knowing well that once he and his two companions began their fight, Coredelia will find them, no matter the distance. They join the soldiers pushing the Gristonne forces out of their way, battle cries echoing out into the sky too blue for the blood being spilt. </p>
<p>Falchion is weightless in his grip, gliding as if simply an extension of his own arm. Visions of battles past and words of great wisdom ring back through his soul. Chrom can see his way through, showing his horse a path not blinding with fire heat or spear heads ready to throw them to the ground. His cape, flying as if a banner of his lineage makes a magnificent scene to Cordelia’s eyes. Her king! He is here! She takes a dive, wind rushing then howling around her. The speed she comes to the ground knocks several soldiers back and with the force of gravity giving her momentum, she spears a fighter clear through his chainmail and leather. Wings exploding open to slow them, the pegasus rears up, kicking out, knocking a Gristonne soldier clean in the head and another against the shoulder, disabling his sword and frightening him enough to flee. Chrom’s hair and cape is still moving in her wind, his horse taking a step back in surprise. </p>
<p>“Cordelia!” He says, bringing her heart the reassurance she so desperately needs. She turns to him, chest thumping and says, “Your highness!” They come together, her spear still dripping. They have a moment to hold a conversation, the battle raging on elsewhere, with the remnants and the resolution of their strength now merely a graveyard of Gristonne bodies. </p>
<p>“You too are here.” His surprise for her is clear but so is his appreciation. </p>
<p>“I suddenly found myself in a foreign world.” Cordelia confirms, her hand coming out and finding his. They hold each another’s forearms, “I knew not what to think. Luckily, she came with me.” Her free hand pets the pegasus’ mane gently, “I was able to fly up above the forest and I saw the temple. They welcomed me kindly, a stranger in foreign colors. When the soldiers began their attack, I knew what I had to do.” Her armor is splattered, blood old and new making a collage of her resolution. Cheeks red from blowing out fires, both her and her partner have been through much already. Her strong duty to protect is still gleaming in her eye and Chrom squeezes her arm. </p>
<p>“You have done Ylisse and me proud.” </p>
<p>“Your highness.” The words are the greatest comfort. </p>
<p>“Frederick and Lissa are here with us as well. I know it is much to ask, but I want you to continue to offer your strength to this temple.” Chrom asks, knowing well of his Shepherds and their resolve. He has asked much of them and they answer every time. </p>
<p>“Of course, you needn’t even ask.” She is looking at him, eyes so clear and straight forward that he can almost see himself in them. “Be careful, Cordelia.” As she begins to lift off, he lets her go, watching as her form, perfect as always, rises into the skies and becomes his own cloud, capable of lightening. </p>
<p>Quickly he collects himself, and rides forward, deeper into the temple grounds. As the stairs come into play, he jumps from the horse, knowing he must protect the libraries, the priests and nuns from devastation. He finds himself facing off with a knight, turning out of the way of winding jabs and powerful slices. Dancing through the defenses, he finds a blind spot just along the shield’s corner and puts his blade up into the soft, vulnerable slot between the helmet and the high rising body plate. Blood pools deep into the metal of the knight’s armor, a noise muffled. He collapses, and Chrom whirls around to meet a blade determined to cut him down from behind. </p>
<p>He wonders if Lianna and Rowan are handling their first battle well. If the fear of loss or pain is holding them back. If it will be hard for them to cut down others. He breaks Falchion free with an upward swing and jabs as quick as possible, piercing the soldier’s shoulder. The man cries out, shocked and jerks back only to have the final blow dealt with precision. Chrom descends on the next fighter, making sure to duck the swinging blade of an axe. His body knows well of how to avoid blind attacks. He does not scrape Falchion along the blade of his enemy’s weapon knowing it will be heavy and a waste of his energy. Instead he draws deep within himself to prepare a strike capable of disabling. He charges, brings the sword down and frees the fighter’s dominant hand from the fight. </p>
<p>Quickly he comes to the aid of several people who have taken refuge in a storeroom under the attack of a Gristonne fighter. The door has begun to splinter under his axe, his arms pulling back for another strike. Chrom impales the Gristonne force, pinning him to the door for a brief moment before pushing his moaning form away. The wound is deep and soon he is lost to the world. Chrom calls out, “Please assist me in closing the doors to this section of the temple! I am of Aytolis!” </p>
<p>Heart thumping, a moment of silence passes and Chrom looks over his shoulder at the soldiers coming out from the courtyard. A face peers out from behind the door, dirtied and bloodied at the hairline. “You are a knight of Aytolis?” The man asks, uncertain and fearful. Chrom offers him a hand, bringing him up out of his crouch, “I am with princess Lianna and prince Rowan. They have come to reinforce the temple.” </p>
<p>“The royal twins!” The priest breathes out, knees still weak. “They are to save us!” He says over his shoulder to the nuns clinging to one another on the floor of the storeroom. “Oh Gods! They have answered our prayers!” One says, tears running free. </p>
<p>“The door.” Chrom says, his gleaming strength bringing the priest confidence and courage. He jumps to action, “Yes! Yes, of course. I will draw the doors closed. I ask you keep the soldiers out.” He shuffles his way over to the mechanics of a chain drawn door, the size too much to ask of merely a person’s arms. Chrom stands on the stairs, armor shining in the midday sun. He feels its heat, foreign to the violence surrounding him. He kicks out, pushing away a soldier intent on rushing him. The sound of the soldier’s sword clattering on the stone is drowned out by a shout from above. </p>
<p>“Your highness!” Cordelia has returned. He turns to her, checking his aim one final time as he draws his blade free from another Gristonne man. “Cordelia!”</p>
<p>She drifts down, pretty as a feather in the wind and glides to meet him, “I have confirmed Lissa and Frederick are fighting through the forces on the east side of the temple. They are well, without need for any concern.” Her pegasus snorts gently, drawing up a hoof, but she comforts its mild agitation, “I have come with more than just such information.”</p>
<p>“What is it?”</p>
<p>“I cannot be for sure, but I believe I saw a mage in familiar robes at the north end of the temple fighting alongside Gristonne forces. I couldn’t be sure for the hood was drawn up but for some reason I felt..” Her words fall away, unable to produce such a powerful statement. To confirm a thing… To say it…</p>
<p>Chrom’s heart flies into his throat. After all this time? Here? Can it be?</p>
<p>He cannot resist, coming forward, “Where?” He must challenge the reality with his own eyes. They do not say his name, for fear of being mistaken but for all his searching he has done, he will not overlook such a chance.</p>
<p>Cordelia’s eyes show deep, complicated emotions. She will tell him, but she knows not whether it is good for her king or not. It is not her choice to make though and she says, “They are past the garden, towards the main hall. They appear to be looking for the main bishop.” </p>
<p>Chrom turns, sees the doors have been pulled closed tightly. He rests a hand to its hard wood, chest flooding uncontrollably with hope and a certain bittersweet pain, sharp, and familiar except for its intensity now that he is in the face of possibility. The ache had become a confidant, keeping him close to a time long passed. He breathes, the smell of smoke still clinging to the air. </p>
<p>“I will go and see.” He says, firm and pulled together. He shan’t show the desperation he feels, that he has learned in the long hours of searching endlessly and in the worried faces of his family and friends who waited earnestly for him. (And sometimes brought him back when not even the dark of night could stop him from looking.)  </p>
<p>Cordelia nods, “I will provide support to the west where they have been trying to get into the priests’ quarters. Please, stay safe, your highness…” She sees him, “Chrom.” They have a long standing friendship and she has watched him suffer greatly at their loss in their final battle for peace. They bear the scars, some violent and deep and invisible on the flesh. She wonders if Chrom has been wounded worse than any of them know.  </p>
<p>“You as well, Cordelia. Please watch for our companions.” But still he stands tall and for that his knight will go to the ends of the earth proudly. She nods once sharply and takes off, leaving her king to his personal duty. </p>
<p>The world around him falls away, his movements reflex, a reaction to his training and experience. He cannot fall here, not a soldier, a knight, (<em>not even a dragon</em>) can hold him at bay. His legs, his lungs, they are without limits, taking him past the trees and finely shaped bushes of a well-taken care of garden space and through several guards attempting to break through the windows of the kitchen. He turns around the stone pillars leading towards the main hall, coming beneath the shade of the outdoor walkway. The main hall’s doors have luckily been pulled closed, providing a certain defense. Aytolis’ soldiers know they must protect the place of worship, and are fending off the red attackers. There is chaos about him, blue and red smearing across his vision as he looks, looks, looks-</p>
<p>Purple! The blast of magic, prickling across his skin, potent and black. Turning his head, he can see dark robes of a mage as a soldier falls to the crackling electricity of a lightening spell. How many dreams has Chrom seen those hands, and that spell book- The figure turns, nimble fingers, without gloves, flipping to a new page and with a raise of their hand, brings forth a dark and glowing orb of power. Through the noise of battle, Chrom cannot hear their voice but he is sure he knows exactly how they sound and the words of that spell by heart. </p>
<p>An Aytolis fighter from behind swings a broad axe to separate the mage’s head from his shoulders, and Chrom bursts forward, a shout tearing free, “Stop! You musn’t-“ His blood is on fire, burning and yet he feels ice cold, his legs almost numb with horror. </p>
<p>The mage turns, ducking back and the axe whizzes past, the motion creating such a wind that it blows back their hood, shimmering silver hair coming into the light. From below, the mage releases the dark ball of magic and knocks the fighter up off their feet and into several approaching soldiers. He turns, and Chrom’s body freezes, as close to his stomach turning to stone is his heart to rupture with his emotions, his awe. Clear as day, clear as the sunlight on their faces and the blood at their feet, it is Robin. </p>
<p>Clear as the day they had met, Robin is here. Not a hair out of place, not a day older than when Chrom had held him.. But something is off, something is hauntingly similar to a certain force he wishes he knew not the name of. Those eyes are not his lover’s eyes, red, disturbingly cold and inhuman. It appears Grima is here, not Robin…</p>
<p>Will he know of a greater pain than being so close and yet so terribly far? He comes forward another step still, never to be pushed away by the dread of permanence or fear. A nightmare come reality is flashing back before his eyes, a time when Robin kept not his word but the safety of his prince and broke that very man’s heart- The flutter of robes catches his attention, a tall man stepping in between them fluidly. </p>
<p>“Well, well.” A deep, resounding voice says coyly, “If it isn’t Ylisse’s prince, ah,” His eyes, sunken slightly by the hunger of dark magic but still deadly and intelligent, travel along Chrom, “No..” He says slowly, long fingers stroking his beard, a wicked yet tamed smile curving his lips, “You are King Chrom now, aren’t you? It is fate that has brought us together again after all this time. How fitting we meet here too.”</p>
<p>Lifting Falchion for protection, Chrom stares at a man thought long gone, the leader of the cursed Grimleal, the unfit mage of Grima’s army sworn to bring back the Fell Dragon no matter the cost and one of the chains holding Robin to darkness.</p>
<p>
  <em>Validar!</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Legend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some questions have answers unwanted.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Adaptions were made to fit my ideas but I hope the underlying goodness of the game still stands! Thanks for the support and I hope you enjoy chapter two!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I thought you dead!” Chrom demands, sword ready and stance wide for attack. He can see the chaos continuing around him from his peripheral vision, the echoing noise of weapon to weapon and voices loud with pain and determination. Validar’s proud and yet equally devious expression is followed by words that ring in Chrom’s head, a stark reminder of his own private truth, “You cannot avoid or undo fate, King.” </p>
<p>He tries to cut through the man, fold him by half but Flachion merely disperses dark cloud, Validar teleported. He whirls, determined to find him, make him pay and he sees his long, tall form standing behind him, “Validar!” He shouts in his anger for the man’s cowardice, his slinking vile ways. He wants him to pay for many things, even if he knows deep in his heart that he is a reason Robin walks the earth. </p>
<p>As Validar creeps inches above the stone about the King, Grima pulls his hood back over his head, red eyes glowing ever so faintly in the shadow. He is quiet, either unassumingly focused or possibly… Chrom’s grip tightens on Falchion, if he is in luck, it is weakness holding his tongue. It should not be possible for the Fell Dragon to have been resurrected so soon when Robin sacrificed… <em>everything</em>. There is much Chrom does not yet understand but he has a will and a promise from years back to fulfill. He will not fail. </p>
<p>“Why are you here? Why has Robin-“ The name chokes him, potent with emotion and Validar’s lips coil with a smirk. His fingers turn a page, smoothing down the darkened words, “Just ask the King of Gristonne, Oskar. He will tell you a fine tale!” On the final rise of his word, the mage’s voice booming and crackling with cruelty, he fires several dark fireballs, Chrom dodging merely through instinct, rolling across the ground. Fire erupts, hungry to take his flesh and burn away his soul. It licks at his cape and heels and he defends himself swiftly slicing through the ropes of a dark binding spell. </p>
<p>Soon on his feet again, Chrom thrusts his blade towards Validar, hoping to draw blood and distract the mage enough to get between him and Robin. But a barrier is quick to knock his strike away, Grima’s hand sparkling into view through the rippling glass after Falchion’s strength. His eyes show emotion, something the dragon is cursed to deal with in the human body. An expression, anger, even hatred, is so foreign to the familiar face that Chrom cannot breathe a moment and is knocked back by a shock of electricity. </p>
<p>Coiling up through all his nerves, pinpricks and rippling buzzing causes him to shrink, hand jerking by the metal of Falchion’s creation. He hisses, seeing Grima lower Robin’s hand. Validar has a disgusting, crooked grin for gloating, “I believe the odds are on our side!” Crouching, Chrom is at a clear disadvantage.</p>
<p>“Your highness!” Frederick’s voice roars across the battle, Chrom turning over his shoulder to look as Validar charges a gravity defying blackhole spell above head. Horse galloping at full speed, the king’s knight leans up, core strong and brow terribly serious. His aim, like that of an archer with a bow, and with a voice to challenge even the heavens, he throws a spear, “It is time to pick a new God and pray!” </p>
<p>A force blasts over Chrom’s head, cutting the air and making a noise as clear and straight forward as Frederick’s heart. It takes Validar by surprise, piercing a shoulder in his attempt to avoid it hitting a vital point on his body. Still mortal… Blood erupts, splattering noisily to the stones beneath. A cry of shock and ugly pain rips through him, Validar’s hand coming to grab the handle firmly lodged in his body. His eyes are wild, vicious, mouth snarling, “You’ll pay for this!” </p>
<p>Frederick is almost within distance to dehead the mage by a sword he keeps to his hip but Validar vanishes in an instant, the fuzzy blur of lingering magic proof of his teleportation. The duration is only mere seconds, giving him little advantage but the element of confusion, his distance not more than twenty yards from them. But it is all Validar needs to conjure a portal, one Chrom has not seen before, purple swirling into the darkest black possible. Frederick’s horse rears up, long, powerful legs kicking out and almost knocking Grima, no, Robin, and the mage puts up another barrier of magic, the force of one hoof knocking him back and distracting him. </p>
<p>At command, soldiers in red begin disappearing through the portal, following Validar whose blood is painting the stones of the temple thoroughly and messily. Grima turns his head, pushing himself to his feet and Chrom shouts, “Wait!” He begins the chase, heart thumping so loudly he can barely hear. </p>
<p>He hesitates once, afraid to harm Robin by tackling him to the ground but his hand is instinctive for fear of losing Robin again possibly forever and takes hold of one robed arm, whirling the mage about. Hood falling loose, Grima’s wide eyes are merely a diversion to the blast of wind by his call that hits Chrom square in the chest. The power is enough to throw him to the ground, knocking the breath from him. But he has little to concern himself with other than preventing Robin from going through the portal and he scrambles up, chest tight. Grima is running, the portal moaning, almost creaking with effort to stay open.</p>
<p>Chrom demands, “Stop!” The strength of his voice hallow with the pain still lingering. He has one final chance; one he will need to take without thinking. He leaps, throwing Robin to the stone beneath him and causing him to let out a terrifying, guttural roar of frustration. The voice beneath Robin’s voice is clearer than his own, sending a chill of horror down Chrom’s spine. A hand comes out to hit, making a fist in the rage. </p>
<p>“<em>ARROGANT MORTAL…! DID YOUR MINISCULE TIME ON THE THRONE… CAUSE YOU TO FORGET I AM THE BRINGER OF YOUR DESPAIR..?</em>” Grima roars, but Chrom catches the fist, the skinny arm horrible in his grip. Behind them the portal hisses closed and Grima cries out, in shock, in clear pain, his free hand jerking out and gripping Chrom’s tunic in pale fingers. “<em>VALIDAR…</em>” He grounds out, grimace deep and penetrating to the king’s heart. But it fades, Robin’s expression smoothing wondrously, like falling from the black claws of a nightmare into the sweet embrace of a pretty dream. His face, like that of merely an afternoon nap betrays not the darkness beneath. </p>
<p>Placing a protective arm about Robin’s shoulders, Chrom draws him closer, afraid to touch him for fear of him vanishing beneath his fingertips. Upon giving the cheek the gentlest of brushes, the cold skin real, Chrom chokes on tears, relief, heartache, even anguish welling up. Robin’s hand, so pale, pale like death lays on the stone, his skinny body light in Chrom’s arms. He hugs him closer, putting his face to those clothes, clothes he had memorized every detail of when they were together. </p>
<p>The approach of a horse sounds behind him, Frederick coming down from his saddle. His heavy footfalls are soundless to Chrom, who fears both for Robin’s life and for his mind. He listens, desperate to hear the next heartbeat and the next. A hand finds his shoulder, but he reacts minutely. </p>
<p>“Your highness… the battle is won.” Frederick says softly. </p>
<p>Chrom lifts his head, the line of a tear trailing his cheek. “Yes. This battle has been won.”</p>
<p>xxx</p>
<p>Returning the temple doors to their rightful place, Aytolis, even among their wounded and casualties, breathes in their victory. The first blood for Rowan and Lianna, they have proven themselves capable of facing the fear of death for their cause and their people. They are fragile but full of raw hope, noses dirty with grime and blades stained with life. For their thorough upbringing, they are not blind by the power to take a man’s life and do not shy from the duty of those with power. They will give proper burial to those lost in this battle. </p>
<p>Lissa tirelessly heals those injured, soothing the throbbing of flesh wounds and wrapping their more superficial pains with nimble fingers learned from a battlefield known to her in her earlier youth. Her charming laughter and sincere thanks brings heart back to soldiers who have lost their brothers, their sisters, their friends. </p>
<p>Many of the fires have died against stone but the remaining strong, well drafted flames are being drowned by Frederick and a number of soldiers whose determination has not been cut by injury or the toil of battle. The blackened earth leaves the now wet stench of burn but the safety of the temple is growing with the gates sealed and the destruction from fire brought to a minimum. Frederick wipes a dirty forehead, sweat running down his throat into his armor. He examines the wood lost in the chaos, thinking of how to reestablish strong foundations. </p>
<p>The royal twins, exhausted and wearied from their duty and faced terror, find within energy yet to continue forward. Lianna heads to the kitchen with the nuns and those from the field who tend the beasts and the crops to prepare a meal and rally the soldiers through a warm, full stomach. All the while Rowan helps to set up cots and unroll places to sleep for the weary in the big hall. He brings amusement to the priests and soldiers able enough to help as he wrinkles sheets needlessly with his unexperienced hand. Rooms meant for guests and travelers are offered, beds beaten fresh and waters changed, glistening cleanly in their bowls. Nuns move about, the sound of conversation and communications making the temple far less smothered with tragedy. Their royal prince and princess are here; they can withstand the suffering easier. </p>
<p>But Chrom, he cannot will himself to leave a room in the east wing, furnished for traveling nobility with a fine, plush goose feather bed and handstitched blankets and where a pale-faced mage rests, unconscious to the world and the king around him. The curtains are drawn to the piercing light of an early evening, the deflection of the attack having eaten up most of their day. A chair has been pulled from the small, dark wooded desk to the bedside and Robin’s robes, heavy and soot stained, are hanging in the generous wooden closet. Chrom has cleaned off the mage’s brow, admiring how each and every eyelash and the pretty line of his nose is exactly the same and the dirtied water sits on the bedside table.</p>
<p>If Chrom dares to leave the bedside, to exit through that doorway, he is sure he will wake from this dream and find himself back in Ylisse in a bed warmed by another with a strange cold chill at the base of his spine. He has yet to wash the battle away for himself, thinking nothing of it and instead holds a hand terribly familiar but… he strokes the knuckles once more, brow drawn seriously. He has lost weight..</p>
<p>“Your highness..” Someone calls for him from the doorway. He wants to dismiss them, for fear of missing the moment Robin wakes but he knows from past experiences he mustn’t run from his duty. Nor hide away from his friends. It is easier with the unknown behind him now.</p>
<p>“Yes, come in.” He stands, hand slowly releasing Robin’s fingers. </p>
<p>Cordelia stands in the entrance to the room, still in her armor and hair pulled away from her face. She has been helping the animals back to the safety of the barns, securing not only the meat of that night’s dinner but the integrity of the horses’ care for their diligence. She offers him a small smile but she doesn’t come boldly into the room which is falling into darkness quickly. </p>
<p>“It is a miracle that he has returned.” She says, and they both know it is not the devilish monster of their nightmares that she speaks of nor of a mage who would spill the blood of even his own children to resurrect a god. She talks of an old friend, one lost and found. </p>
<p>The sting of relief, still terribly sensitive and tender, pierces through him by her words which he knows she means truly. He is glad she says this, as he finds his voice trapped beneath feelings and memories and dreams, so many, many dreams. They look at each other from across the room and she says, “We are all just as surprised…” It is an offering for him to open up, to tell her and ultimately his other companions, of his pain and his secret longings and his heartache. When Chrom says nothing, Cordelia continues, “We all have so much we would like to tell him.” The lilt of her voice betrays emotion. She, and all the Shepherds, gave up a dear friend and watched for the years after as their King grieved endlessly, deprived of some pleasant years and hollow like a tree who could not find spring again. Her hopeful eyes gleam in the final light of day and he, finally breaking the surface of the cold ocean of his agony to reality, knows how painful it is to continue to see hope breathe anew like a phoenix untethered to how much the flames hurt at each rebirth. </p>
<p>“Yes.” He says quietly, “So much.” The words are a bridge long caved in by a sacrifice and a promise lost to duty and she finally steps into his world and he lets her. “Will you not come down to eat something?” Her arms have involuntarily folded about her torso, protecting her vulnerabilities and the emotions that lay within. </p>
<p>“I… I cannot.” He turns away, towards the bed, fingers ghosting the blankets just before Robin’s hand, restraining his desire to touch. “I wouldn’t wish for..” He swallows, throat dry suddenly; there’s been nothing he’s wished for more than to say this name not as a phantom of something he once had… “Robin to wake alone in an unfamiliar place.”</p>
<p>“Of course…” She murmurs, “Then I will send for someone to bring a tray up. For you both.” To diminish the heavy mood, she thinly smiles, “Robin will certainly be hungry when he wakes.” </p>
<p>It draws from him a fragile smile, “You’ve done me nothing less than what I could ask for.” Beneath, he says, ‘more than what I deserve.’ She gives him a stern look and says, “You can’t do anyone any good without first looking after yourself.” </p>
<p>“You sound like Frederick.” He says gently and she returns, “He is not wrong.” They watch one another and the sun falls beneath the tower, bathing them in shadow. </p>
<p>“Light a candle, your highness. And wash your face. Robin will worry if he sees the blood on you.” Cordelia turns from the room, her elegant brow reserved and kind. She does not overstay a welcome or intrude in places she sees unfit. Her footsteps echoing down the stone hall and into the stairwell fall away and Chrom sighs. She is right, Robin will worry to see him in such a state. He pulls from the desk the candle and the matches, drawing a warm orb of light into the room. He will wash his face.</p>
<p>When there is little to be provided by the service of royals, Lianna and Rowan take time to eat amongst their own, Darios sitting across a table with them. If Chrom had his eyes set on the scene he would wonder where the prince had been during the bloodshed but he is not present. His knight watches on, strong back carrying a weight he is familiar with in the absence of his King. A young nun takes up a tray of two bowls of chicken stew and wild rice as well as two rustic goblets of red wine to the east tower, her careful steps alerting Chrom before she enters. </p>
<p>“Sir?” She asks, and peeks into the doorway. The curtains are drawn back in the cool wind of oncoming nightfall and Chrom stands by the glass and wood windows opened out into the air. Face clean and contemplative, she finds him handsome and becomes somewhat shy. </p>
<p>“Your dinner..” She offers, voice softer than she might like and blushes faintly. With warm fingers, she shows him the tray and he smiles nicely, obviously thankful for her service, “Your hospitality treats us kindly. I appreciate it more than you know.” He comes forward and while she knows not of who she is really face to face with, she can feel his greatness and has heard of his skill with a sword and his leadership from other nuns who have seen it firsthand. He is the talk of many pretty whispers. She sees in his expression something that makes her heart ache and when he takes the tray from her, her hand presses to her breast. Maybe it is sadness the young nun sees, or love sickness. </p>
<p>Belatedly she murmurs, “Of course… I hope it is to your liking.” The words fall from her lips as she searches his eyes, “Our beloved princess Lianna helped make it…” </p>
<p>He smiles, recognizes the name clearly as his eyes glimmer with the faintest light, “I’m sure it will be well to our liking.” She finds his words carefully chosen and warm even with his sad eyes and she excuses herself, heart racing as she rushes down the stairs. Other nuns catch her when she comes back into the main hall and pull her into a frenzied conversation. </p>
<p>Chrom lays the tray down to the bedside table, having moved the washing water next to the door so it can easily be replaced. Robin has not moved since he collapsed in the courtyard but his even breathing keeps Chrom from despairing. Simply asleep, not gone. The heat coils up from the stew, healthy chunks of carrots and potatoes sitting in the creamy broth. It smells brilliant, homely as a meal cooked in the villages and fresh with ingredients tended by hands. Touching the bowl, it is still hot from the pot and he thinks of the number of times he and his faithful tactician talked strategy over a warm broth. What if.. when he is to wake, it is not Robin at all.. but.. </p>
<p>“Your highness.” Frederick calls him, breaking the silence and his concentration. “May I come in?” </p>
<p>He truly is distracted; he hadn’t heard the knight coming at all. Repressing a heavy breath, the labor of the day catching up to him, he stills his desire to sigh. He can feel it in his muscles, lingering when he sits down, “Of course. You needn’t even ask.”</p>
<p>Frederick steps in, armor shining and freshly oiled and glinting with candlelight. Hands folded behind his back, he shows his thoroughly honed discipline. “I heard from Cordelia that she sent you dinner.” He pauses, “And also from several nuns in the hall.” He adds, edging on sheepish or a mild shyness. </p>
<p>“Have you eaten, Frederick?” </p>
<p>“Yes, your highness. With Lissa who is currently bathing in the west wing. They have a .. small but warm hot springs. She was very excited.” </p>
<p>Chrom wrings his hands between his knees, mind still winding its way back to libraries lit in similar light and maps with a gentle person’s handwriting with sharp practiced lines- </p>
<p>“Maybe you should visit the baths after eating as well.” Frederick offers, strong tone cutting through the fog of the mind’s eye. He goes to the window and pulls it closed, the night wind coming in cold to the tower. The lock clicks and once more the curtains are drawn. </p>
<p>“I shan’t leave Robin’s side.” Chrom replies, squeezing at his thumbs, willing his own tone to sound even and like himself. </p>
<p>“He will be here even after you’ve eaten and taken a moment for yourself.” The knight reasons, bringing a hand to Chrom’s shoulder in solid support. The weight settles Chrom who sinks slightly beneath it. He really is tired, exhausted from a journey he has been taking in his heart for so long… Slowly he folds down and puts his forehead to his hands. How many nights had he prayed, begged for relief? How did he survive heart break and pure, unaltered anguish twice? Once almost broke him when he watched Emmeryn’s sacrifice. Twice when he realized Robin’s selflessness learned was permanent. </p>
<p>“Frederick…” He whispers, “Would you.. he <em>is</em> real isn’t he?”</p>
<p>“As real as you or me.” </p>
<p>A trembling breath. He raises his head, and says, “Excuse me a moment of weakness.” Frederick’s warm palm squeezes, “Of course, your highness.” They still, two friends bond by duty but more so by love and closeness of mind. Frederick understands how Chrom feels and Chrom knows he can rely on Frederick in his darkest times. That he is merely a man carrying the weight of a kingdom and a legend. There is much to discuss between them but silence holds. They are no longer the same young men naïve to the depth of war scars and to the bleeding that cannot be performed externally. Frederick finally speaks, “Lianna and Rowan were worried about you.”</p>
<p>This snaps Chrom from his thoughts. He thinks of his sister and her patience for him, of all of them and their kindness. “That won’t do, will it.” He murmurs, placing his hands on his knees to stand. He turns, and Frederick for a brief moment worries himself about the expression he will see on his King’s face but Chrom shows him a sincere smile. “I think I’ll follow your advice. Falchion too deserves a proper cleaning after today.” </p>
<p>Calmed by his highness’ strong heart, Frederick says, “Allow me. While you eat. I have things to tell you.”</p>
<p>Frederick brings in another chair and while he shines his lord’s blade, Chrom enjoys the stew and rice, drinking thirstily. His racing thoughts fall away, and Frederick tells him of their intel. As they both know, Validar has escaped, vanishing through a new portal, one different than the usual dark magic teleportation spells. His soldiers followed suit and some of the scouts told of strange creatures, large and looming with arms thick as tree trunks by their words, wandering the forests. There are rumors of skilled swordsmen hired by Gristonne’s king who goes undefeated at other battles King Oskar is picking. The land is falling into fear and chaos under a looming red flag. And Queen Yelena’s whereabouts are still unknown and whether she escaped successfully or not is weighing heavily on her children and kingdom. </p>
<p>The situation is a twisted mirror to one they knew well. Chrom’s eyes go thoughtful. He may have been strong enough at one point, when he was younger and full of hope, and at his peak when he had fate on his side and the power to pierce through it when it was not. He nurses the wine. </p>
<p>A knock on the door catches both their attention and a nun requests, “Cherished guests, please excuse my intrusion.” She is well into her years, her face creased with laughter lines and friendly crow’s feet. “The Bishop wishes to speak to you. He asks you join him in his study.” She bows to them both, her consideration generous and respectful. The shapes of her knuckles show a woman who has worked hard with them and they are meticulously clean without any jewelry.  </p>
<p>“Thank you for relaying the message.” Chrom says and stands. Frederick glides Falchion back into sheath and rests her to the wall next to the dresser. </p>
<p>The old nun beams, her teeth strong and square, “Kind young man! You <em>are</em> as easy on the eyes as they all say.” When Chrom’s cheeks flush to a healthy color in his surprise, Frederick looking on just as taken aback, she laughs a great belly laugh, “You’ve become quite the talk! I’d say we’d have to thank you,” She comes into the room, a sly wink tossed to Chrom as she pats him walking by, “But it’d be more appropriate to thank you parents, wouldn’t it?” Dishes collected, she says to them both, “Follow me; I’ll show you the way until the kitchen.” </p>
<p>Chrom feels the heat on his face down the stairs and into the hall but it is rekindled when several young nuns quickly hide at their presence, peeking about a stone corner. Their gazes are well-intentioned, meaning only compliments and their youth which speaks to the innocence of their attachment to him makes him all the more aware of it. The old nun chuckles good naturedly, quite amused, wicked by her exposing Chrom to the affection he would normally be unaware of. </p>
<p>“The prince and princess as well as your lovely sister are already there. Take that northern hallway and through the main hall and follow up those stairs and you should be just about there.” She points, holding the tray with one hand easily. “Don’t get lost!” She calls after them, “Or do, and ask some lucky girl for directions!”</p>
<p>Frederick coughs, “I have to say <em>I</em> am almost blushing.” </p>
<p>Chrom smiles, the warmth in his cheeks somehow welcome and comforting, “They could easily achieve that if they tried.”</p>
<p>“I hope they do not.”</p>
<p>“Yes, because if they do a certain Sully-“</p>
<p>Frederick coughs even louder, clearing his throat and motions, “I believe we are here.” </p>
<p>The large wooden door is slightly ajar, the sound of voices and light spilling through the crack. Frederick pushes it open for them and Lianna and Rowan’s rosy cheeked faces brighten. “There you are!” She says and Rowan comes forward, knocking a sturdy fist to Frederick’s chest plate, “Still in your armor! Doesn’t that get heavy?”</p>
<p>Lissa has her hair down, a certain feminine charm clinging to her and she looks to Chrom with eyes caring and tender. She has in her hands a mug of warmed milk with honey, something she has had before bed many times when they were children. Her dress is something likely from the temple as with Lianna and Rowan. They look as young adults do when they can be just that, all the banners and swords put away and the crowns resting on figurative pillows. </p>
<p>The room is lit by a number of lamps burning oil placed on the dark wood of fine furniture. Several chairs with fat cushions are sitting in various places: before a table for tea and discussion where the Shield of Flames rests and then at the desk stacked with paperwork and books where a bald-headed, bearded man sits. He has a heavy brow, one from age and serious contemplating which he likely does often and ears round for hearing well. On his pinky finger sits a large golden ring. He greets them with a curt nod but upon making eye contact, Chrom realizes he has an amiable glow to his dark eyes. Behind him are rows of bookcases filled generously. </p>
<p>“Sorry for making you all wait.” Chrom says, and before he can push the door closed, Rowan stops him, “We are still looking for Darios to join us.” He explains and then he pops his head out into the cool hallway. </p>
<p>Lianna smiles somewhat apologetically for her brother, and asks, “How is your friend?” She has a graceful, toned body, one for riding horses and excelling in activity. From her seat she gently runs her long fingers along her mug now empty. “Is he feeling alright?” She does not openly judge the complicated nature of Robin’s presence, but Chrom suspects, like himself, she does not privately judge either. </p>
<p>“He is still resting.” He answers and she seems understanding, “It has been a long day for us all.” </p>
<p>Rowan jerks back in, smile large, “Here he comes!” </p>
<p>Chrom and Frederick step out of the way, moving closer to Lissa in the room as Darios slips inside. His eyes widen ever so slightly at everyone’s attention and he gives a slight bow, “Were you all waiting for me?” His hand pushes the door closed behind him. </p>
<p>“We just arrived moments ago.” Frederick alleviates him and he lets out a breath, and gives a small smile in thanks.</p>
<p>“Now that everyone is here…” The Bishop begins, voice powerful despite his age, dipping in his accent. He loosely folds his thick fingers before him on top the desk, “First, the temple must offer its most heartfelt respect and gratitude. If you all had not come to our aid..” He grips his fingers tighter, brow wrinkling in the distress at even the thought, “We could not enjoy an evening such as this. Thank you.”</p>
<p>Lianna stands, putting a hand to her breast, “While there was still damage done and precious lives lost, we are glad,” Her voice wavers ever so slightly, her resolve true and her emotion potent, “that we arrived in time.” </p>
<p>The Bishop’s eyes soften and he says, “You two would do your mother proud.” </p>
<p>The words are both a comfort and a bittersweet reminder. Rowan sniffs minutely and then wipes his nose roughly. The Bishop sighs heavily, twisting his ring. The silence of loss sits with everyone. “So it is true that Lady Yelena…” He murmurs, looking down into his paperwork, aged with the attack and the pain of losing their queen. He had hopes of passing his temple onward without the splatter of blood and war to his name but the era of peace is sudden to end and there is little choice to be had once it has. He thinks a long moment, stroking his beard. He has taken on the burden of the sacred knowledge, kept between few for safety and instead of passing it to the next in ceremony, he will reveal it for the sake of the kingdom. What a heavy task. </p>
<p>Lissa puts a hand to Chrom’s ever so softly and he gives her fingers a squeeze. </p>
<p>“Very well.” The Bishop breathes, “Then you must listen to me very carefully.” </p>
<p>Lianna returns to her seat and Rowan, unable to listen seriously while sitting, stands behind her chair in moral support. Frederick folds his arms as everyone steadies themselves to hear the important news. </p>
<p>“Luck is on our side, as the Gristonne forces could not find me in this sudden attack. They know they must take the Shield of Flames in order for their plans to pan out. But they know not of the trials that will awaken the power of the Shield. They came here thinking this to be the place where the Shield and such knowledge would be but they have failed and that is our first victory.” He stands with a heavy creak from his well-used chair and from a book he reaches for with precision he pulls forth a weathered drawing of a Shield and a Dragon swirling around it, “Now I will share this precious knowledge with you.</p>
<p>This is the Aytolis legend of the Shield of Flames and the Chaos Dragon, Velezark.” He says, and every lamp in the room shudders as if touched by a cold wind. The Bishop gives them each a slow glance but he refuses to be intimidated and continues, “Long, long ago, this world faced a dire threat. During the time of dragons, there was one who was birthed from the darkest of flames. One who gave way to chaos to all that it came in touch with. Creatures of vile birth followed this dragon, destroying anything in their path. Velezark was this dragon’s name. An ancient God said to be born from the evil of every creature’s hearts- the desire for war, the need for revenge, the ploy to betray. </p>
<p>Velezark had an ability to tear reality and create doors called Outrealm Portals which led to other realms. Monsters- Outrealm Fiends- surged forth and attacked the people. They were born from the chaos of other worlds, animals twisted from being pulled through the dark magic. Darkness bled into our kingdom. Velezark was a punishing and brutal God, torturing the people with these portals that altered their bodies forever or brought ghosts not meant for this land. </p>
<p>But it’s also said that people from connected worlds emerged. Those with strong hearts could withstand the darkness of the portal and step through to our realm. We have seen these portals here in this temple’s very walls. With these portals open, the Chaos Dragon may be free once again.”</p>
<p>“Can we not just kill the dragon?” Rowan blurts, gripping the back of Lianna’s chair, “There should be a blade strong enough to kill a dragon!” </p>
<p>Chrom feels a chill deep along his spine. He knows well of dragons born from chaos and misery. </p>
<p>The Bishop shakes his head slowly, “You will not be able to kill him at his full strength, no. You cannot eradicate him from this world at all. That is why the Shield of Flames was created. It was created by the Divine Dragon of the land who belonged to nature and goodness. She lit the Shield of Flames and within it, from the power of man’s pure hearts, she placed the Gleamstones. These are magical orbs carrying the true souls of heroes whose determination and strength can access divine magic. She called forth when needed those who could light the Gleamstones and seal the Chaos Dragon away.”</p>
<p>“How can we find these heroes? How do we know when we have met one?” Lianna asks, paled by the horror of such a force hungering for their land, their family and their future. </p>
<p>“Well,” The Bishop gives her a thin smile, “as luck is on our side, we seem to have met some powerful allies from a land unknown to any of our maps.” His knowing eyes touch on each of the Shepherds and the royal twins turn, understanding dawning on their faces. “I believe we have met some heroes fit for lighting Gleamstones.” </p>
<p>“This is great news!” Rowan beams, hand on Lianna’s shoulder, “We should pull the Shield forth and light it!” </p>
<p>“It is not so simple to merely light a Gleamstone. The power of the soul must be felt. I believe it best that we put the Shield in our most sacred and oldest room dedicated to the Divine Dragon and let it soak in the residual power. It has been many, many years of peace. I am sure the Divine Dragon has been sleeping deeply in the land.” The Bishop says, rolling up the drawing and placing it on his desk with care. He walks around the desk, his robes full and dark. </p>
<p>“How will we know when the Gleamstones are lit?” Darios asks from a corner of the room, his arms folded and body leaned against the wall. His eyes show the fire like a mirror. He appears tense but no more than any of the rest of them. </p>
<p>“Well,” The Bishop thinks, once more stroking his beard, “I do believe a light, one that can pierce through the dark fog of the blackest magic will appear in the Gleamstone.” </p>
<p>“I see.” The prince murmurs, falling away in thought. </p>
<p>“I think it is important then that we pray to the Divine Dragon.” Lianna says as she stands, “For the safety of mother and in gratitude that the Shield of Flames exists. Without it..” She cannot say the words of how horrifyingly helpless they would be but because the idea is worth contemplating, she offers it as carefully as possible to the group. Rowan’s hand slips down her shoulder into her own. </p>
<p>“Let me show you our room dedicated to such a place. And to the spot for the Shield.” The Bishop walks to the door, only stopped by Lissa who has a question, his hand on the door handle. </p>
<p>“You said that the portals bring forth monsters and heroes…” She begins, hands clenched into fists by her sides. Chrom watches her, confused but says nothing. He can say nothing because he understands not what she means to say. </p>
<p>“Yes.” The Bishop replies heavily, somehow more aware than her brother is. </p>
<p>“And you said ghosts not meant for this world…” Her words become brittle, fearful, and her eyes glisten.</p>
<p>“Yes…” The man says, “Fragments of people already gone, back through the chaos to torture those grieving. If hearts are what brings forth the heroes, hearts can bring other things. Even things that are no longer on any plane.” His expression is withdrawn, and he says with conviction, “But there are truths and exaggerations to every legend. Come.” He tells them, and taking up a lamp, he begins to travel into the depths of the centuries old temple.</p>
<p>Lissa shivers, her hands pulled up almost to her throat. She can’t bear to look at her brother and he can’t bear to hear those words. They leave him so cold, he feels as a dead man walking. There is a pit growing into a stone in his stomach and he turns away, afraid to show his expression. A nightmare come true… Lianna touches his arm, startling him greatly and she says, “Chrom?” Her eyes show concern, compassion but not horror or even anger. She does not think he has done something vile.. </p>
<p>“Come on!” Rowan lifts the Shield from the table, “What are you all standing..” He looks to their expressions and finds the shock, the pale fright. He searches them, not quite understanding. “What is the matter?”</p>
<p>“It isn’t true.” Chrom suddenly says, throwing his cape back. “It is as the Bishop told us. There are exaggerations to every legend and there is no reason to doubt that here.” </p>
<p>Lianna and Rowan glance between each other and then at the Shepherds whose grave faces are a mystery to them. Frederick, tense, every muscle in his body strung tight tries to believe although his doubt feels as clear as it did when they came upon a robed stranger in a field that fateful afternoon. Lissa whirls to her brother, grabbing him in a hug. </p>
<p>“You’re right, brother! You’re right!” Her face buried in his chest, he comes back from a strange cliff in his mind. He puts an arm slowly around her and she looks up, “It’s about the power of the heart, right?” She tells him weakly, pained that she brought them all such fear of someone so dear sleeping upstairs. </p>
<p>He’s relieved to hear her think the same. They can alter fate; all they need is a second chance. “Right.” He says softly. Frederick turns his gaze away, steeling himself. Lissa squeezes her very alive and very kind hearted brother and they all make peace with the knowledge in their own way for the time being. </p>
<p>“I should go check on Robin.” Chrom says finally and Lissa releases him although her fingers hesitate to let go. But she manages a smile and says, “We’ll go with Lianna and Rowan to pray.” She wants to speak with Frederick, and offer her support to the prince and princess, their worries alleviated by the improvement of their companions’ outward moods. Lissa takes the princess’ hand, smiling to her and squeezes it knowing she will squeeze back. Rowan watches as Chrom leaves, cape fluttering against his long strides.</p>
<p>“Was that your friend’s name?” His question echoes in the background but Chrom is in a hurry and soon the Bishop’s study and the north wing are behind him, merely a faded maze in the back of his mind. The temple is dark save the flickering lamps every so often so that the entirety of the indoor walls not be plunged into night. He finds his way back to the main hall and the kitchen area where men and women sleeping are scattered everywhere, soldiers of his side. He picks through them, careful not to wake them by an accidental foot or noise. Moaning from the bedrooms coils up his spine and settles like bad food in his stomach, the wounded finding no rest from physical pain. But it twists not nearly as deep as the fear that upstairs something unnatural has been invited in by his own hand. </p>
<p>There is no speed fast enough and yet slow enough. He sees the closed door down the hall, his breath heavy in his chest. Beside it a lamp flickers, giving just enough light he won’t have issue entering the bedroom. He swallows, evens his breathing. Falchion is inside. Robin is inside. His Robin. </p>
<p>The door creaks ever so slightly when he pushes it open. Darkness meets his eyes, and he gropes forward around the doorway for his sword. Its sturdy form against his palm, he calms and looks across the shadows. Silence is a blanket and, even with his heart thudding painfully, he moves towards the bed. The candle he had lit earlier is still sitting on the bedside table and he touches for the matches. </p>
<p>When the candle comes alive, he sees the peaceful face half in shadow, half in orange light of Robin still sleeping soundly in the bed. His grip on Falchion lessens and he lets out a heavy breath. What did he fear was going to be waiting for him? Nothing? A demon wearing Robin’s face? His guilt for assuming many things is the worst. This does not prove Lissa’s point wrong.. He turns away and finds he is unimaginably thankful Robin is still here. </p>
<p>Chrom returns the sword to its resting place, slowly pushing the door closed. Rather than find fear rejuvenated from the lingering unknown, he is tired and desperate to lay next to the familiar form of his lover. It is possible he cannot find it in himself to rekindle the flame of terror he felt with his companions by his side because he wishes too greatly to be back in the presence of his greatest friend. He fears what Lissa and Frederick think of his heart which has become fragile in its loss.. </p>
<p>“Chrom..” A voice he knows and has longed to hear so deeply it makes his bones ache. After all this time.. And to say his name! Countless times he has slept wishing just once more from his memories that he could be called in that familiar, gentle way. Is he already in a dream? No… He turns, heart in his throat, in his stomach, behind his eyes. His blood is roaring. </p>
<p>Robin sits in the bed before him, and all that speaks to Chrom of him is the same as it was years gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Vows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Robin awakens as well as the means to which the Shield can be infused with power.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for the support! (:</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Robin?” His question is just as much a phantom as he thinks might be before him, falling from his lips, fragile like the petal of a flower. The candle beside the bed is weak, leaving them in barely managed darkness as though it too senses something looming among them. Outside the howl of a coming wind whooshes past the tower, along the stones but cannot come inside and vanishes along its journey. There have been years of searching, and one sided conversations. Robin’s eyes, focused on him from across the room, do not glow, not even the faintest sliver of red watching the king. </p>
<p>“You tremble before me. Are you scared?”</p>
<p>Blinking, like coming out of a spell, Chrom hadn’t even noticed his trembling. He examines a hand briefly, giving it just a moment to see the observation true, his body tremoring. Clenching fingers into a fist, he looks back onto Robin’s face, a thin, knowing smile on pale lips. Beneath the rush of adrenaline, and what he wants to be a wondrous, fateful reunion, flushes fear, something confusing but distinct. </p>
<p>“Do you believe me a ghost? Come, you can touch me, can you not?” A pale hand is offered, colorless in the light. Eyes he does not think he recognizes. Neither Grima nor Robin’s and by this he hurts himself; does he really not remember Robin’s gaze? Has it been that long?</p>
<p>Each step feels of a thousand years, the distance strangely far, an entire dimension crossed to be here. But still he comes forward, against the ominous feeling clinging to his spine, telling him of danger he refuses to acknowledge. Robin doesn’t move, his hand awaiting Chrom’s so he reaches out to those fingers that are so pretty, as white as moonlight. Shadows arch up to the ceiling, a cage of night, their privacy secured whether for the good or the bad of it. Chrom does not remember Robin speaking in such a way… By his touch, the fingers wisp away into smoke, vanishing with a whisper. His heart squeezes so tight he’s sure it will burst and bleed but laughter catches his attention and he spins to it, Robin standing in the now open doorway, firelight on his shoulders which are bare without his robes, gleaming. Wearing no boots, his steps make no sound.  </p>
<p>“I’m sorry. I jest.” He says coolly with the face the king is unbearably fond of altered to some expression unrecognizable, a different person entirely. Or… a Robin from some other dimension, an unknown clone who uses different muscles to show emotion. “So this is the man you once loved?” He speaks and there.. it rumbles beneath, dark magic, a dark presence. Eyes narrow on him, challenging, insidious even, and he steps forward, his shadow reaching deep into the room, touching at Chrom’s feet. </p>
<p>“You shouldn’t be here.” Chrom says, voice tight. Falchion is out of reach now from where he stands and so he walks into Robin’s shadow, brazen towards the god hiding in plain sight. </p>
<p>“By that logic,” The mage steps to the right, “Neither should this body.” Each step is a movement on their chess board. Chrom steps left, and Robin, glides once more to the right. They are circling one another, the buzz of magic strong in the room. </p>
<p>The reply has a prickling chill lingering along the king’s skin. Around them air has dropped in temperature, as if underground, deep in the layer of something ancient and born from the very stone of the earth. It settles heavy, weighing each step and Chrom finds it hard to speak but he pushes forth, “Robin, you have returned…”</p>
<p>“Who is Robin?” That smile, one that shows nothing of special care and kindness sucks the breath from Chrom, tightening his chest and he murmurs, voice weak with disbelief, “What are you saying…”</p>
<p>They have almost swapped places now, Robin deeper in the bedroom than before, bathed in the shadows. Falchion is almost in his reach. In one swift motion, like a snake, Robin’s eyes narrow and his smile thins, “Tell me of <em>your</em> Robin. Tell me of the man who you wanted to throw the world away for.”</p>
<p>“Who are you?” Chrom grips Falchion, a familiar weight bringing strength to him, “You are Grima? Then the Robin I know still lives and you are not permitted here, neither in this temple nor in his body.” He unsheathes the sword, a gleam travelling up the blade to speak of justice and honor. Years of battle, and tales of heroes sing on its edge. </p>
<p>Slowly, the mage folds his hands behind his back, contemplative, assessing the warrior before him. “You would cut down this form? I welcome you to try. It will give me chance to properly kill you this time.” How terrifying the threat is because Chrom knows, and maybe this person before him as well, that it is very possible he will die by that hand. Robin’s figurative blade can strike him; he will inevitably struggle to dodge his greatest companion of whom he feels no knightly instinct for. Falchion could not drink Robin’s blood, no matter the amount of dragon flowing through his veins. </p>
<p>Chrom steadies his hand, “Robin. You have fought off the grip of darkness before. You can do it again. I stand before you, because of you and our land thrives by your protection. You are strong.” </p>
<p>Grima’s nose wrinkles in distaste, “How many years have we been apart, king? It is mere seconds to me. You speak of nothing. The human form feels each grain of time, elongated by your short lifespans. Do you believe one measly puppet could withstand the call of despair, resist the smothering black core of my power and still retain a soul?”</p>
<p>“I do believe!” He can do nothing more than believe, believe with his entirety and know that the feelings be true and pure. </p>
<p>Gently Grima blinks, exhaustion creeping about the eyes and he murmurs, “You have resilience…” He grips his hand into a fist, testing his fingers and slowly looks back up to Chrom, “If only we had not met so soon…” Wryly, he offers a rare smile, his human body keeping him trapped beneath the limitations of emotions, “You call to him so loudly.” That same hand presses to his chest and he sighs, “I remember this. This… sensation… How does it feel to give a damned man a soul, king?” Then as if emptied of all that was inside of him, Robin crumbles into Chrom’s quick arms, Falchion clattering loudly to the stones and Robin limp as if lifeless. </p>
<p> Breathing heavily, the air returning in a rush of oxygen, exploding the candle and bringing forth a stronger light than before, Chrom comes to his knees, cradling his lover’s cold body and pushing the tactician’s hair from his face, “Robin, by Gods, Robin…” He grabs one of the other’s hand and squeezes, feeling each bone and the faint pulse of life at the wrist, “Don’t you dare leave me now… Not after all this time…” </p>
<p>It is an entire coming and passing of the moon before Robin comes back to the surface. Like out of a deep slumber, his eyes open slowly, falling back down after a moment as he tries to stay rooted in reality and collect his thoughts, each one a far away door that must be opened to let fresh air in. He finally blinks away the residual fatigue, able to look about his settings. </p>
<p>Unfamiliarity all about. Curtains with patterns he doesn’t know, and furniture simple but none he remembers ever seeing. The blankets are blue, older but well taken care of, keeping what little warmth he has. It’s cold, or maybe it’s just him. His body is barely listening to him, and so all he can do is pull his hand closer, touching along the faint track of stitching, relishing the sensation on his fingertips. </p>
<p>Listening, he finds there to be silence, the door pulled closed and faint light trickling in beneath. It must be late. The window isn’t visible, and the candle has burned down to half its size, flickering as if in a greeting. If the mage could smile, he might offer one. </p>
<p>Where is Chrom? </p>
<p>Robin wants to call for him, but he doesn’t have the energy. His voice is still far away, a tiny ship on the waves of the ocean. It will take time to float out there. Maybe a little more rest… but… he wants to speak to Chrom… he feels there is something he must remember… </p>
<p>The second time Robin wakes, is another day later, although he doesn’t realize this. Chrom is standing by the window, looking out into the dusk, proud and handsome, with broad shoulders that carry weight so well and Robin gently follows the line of his tunic to his belt and soaks in how much he admires the man for himself. He sees ever so slightly the brow line of his prince and notices how serious it looks. Beneath the window is noise, speaking, accents floating along Robin’s ears that he can’t place. The words are tumbling into the room, but he can’t make them out. Warm breeze comes in as well, grass and the smells of the ever-moving world giving the room a lively flush. </p>
<p>“A sight for sore eyes…” Robin murmurs, voice softer than he expects. </p>
<p>But it captures Chrom’s attention immediately, and he whirls around, cape rushing magnificently about him as he strides forward, to take hold of Robin’s cool hand, “Robin…!” Sharp, pinched, pain is beneath his name, biting through even with Chrom’s usual optimism and good will. He is himself, completely, but at his eyes, youth has faded in place of something more sad, something heavier. There are faint lines Robin doesn’t remember, and he has his prince lift his hand with him, to touch along his cheek, his brow line, which are creased, worry, vulnerable hope and thankfulness all present. </p>
<p>“Chrom..” Robin begins, feeling at his fingertips tears, wet and hot and is quietly startled, watching his lover weep and hold his hand with such a careful, loving touch, as if they have not seen each other in years… </p>
<p>“Why are you crying, Chrom? And have you not aged since I last…” His head thumps dully, chest sinking coolly, ice to the inner touch and he pales ever so slightly. The memories are right there, but he is afraid to access them. He has broken an oath to this man, and Grima had greeted him in prosperous patience and glee fit for only a God. His being here means many things and the death of Grima is not one of them. If he has failed to do his one and only duty to the land…</p>
<p>“I have waited for this day for so long.” Chrom murmurs, caressing Robin’s palm like it is made of gold and he is in desperate need for the riches, “And finally, at last…” </p>
<p>But here sits his love, and the world has not fallen apart. Robin curls his fingers about Chrom’s bringing his attention up, and he smiles, containing himself, “Welcome home, Robin.” They are words that speak of a magnitude of anguish and blinding hope, faithful loyalty, and to love, which wounds the mage, but even more so makes him ache to his very bones; for his wish to be forgiven, and to erase his great sin which he performed in order to erase an even greater sin, without loss of a smile afterward that beckons him back to waiting arms seems to be coming true. </p>
<p>“I do not deserve such heartfelt acceptance..” He breathes, attempting to pull his devious hand back, one complicit in trying to thrust their land into fiery chaos, and almost succeeding but Chrom holds steadfast, sincere, “I have looked everywhere for you.” His gaze is so hot on Robin’s face, he can feel what little heat he has rising, “I believed in you coming back to me. Not even Grima’s revival can deter my faith.” And Robin grimaces, turning his face away, bleeding at the knowledge. He knows this well and that is where the birth of his lie began.</p>
<p>So Grima lives. He has failed, and has been granted another day, true to his promise to Chrom and ashamedly against his vow to himself. There is a bitter sweetness to it all, because here his prince, the man who has given his all to the cause asks just one thing of him (Robin to stay by his side which is more than the mage can ever ask for) and he can give this to him, if he allows his own heart selfishness. Chrom breathes, pressing Robin’s knuckles to his forehead, and he murmurs, relieved, “I get this second chance.”</p>
<p>“Chrom,” Robin asks, gently raising his lover’s gaze, “I cannot stay if Grima lives on.”</p>
<p>“Do not say this.” Chrom begs, squeezing his hand, “Do not say such things. Not after the years I spent searching. Not after crossing entire dimensions.” </p>
<p>“Years? Crossing dimensions?” Robin echoes in bewilderment. </p>
<p>Maturity residing in resolution, in a truth so close to his heart he can’t be without it sits in Chrom’s eyes. He does not mind moving past their fundamental disagreement on how to advance against a God. That is clear in his tone. “We are not in Ylisse. This is the kingdom of Aytolis, a reality apart but somehow connected to our own. They are in need of our help, as we were called forth by the Shield of Flames which uses the strength of warriors to fuel its power.”</p>
<p>Robin listens carefully, painfully aware of his presence being not necessarily a reassuring thing. He did not come by Chrom’s side. But that goes unsaid for now. “You were pulled from Ylisse? Has there been any news of other warriors? Is it just you?” </p>
<p>“Yes, from the very walls of our castle.” Chrom’s lips curve in a half smile, “With Frederick and Lissa by my side. Cordelia has also found her way here. We all joined together when the temple was raided by opposing forces.”</p>
<p>“And the Shield?”</p>
<p>“It has not shown any sign of activation. There must be some kind of trial or possibly a spell necessary. For the last month we have been researching what this land knows in order to begin the process of putting an end to this civil unrest.” </p>
<p>Robin’s eyes widen in surprise, “The last month?” </p>
<p>Chrom gently, ever so softly kisses the pale knuckles of Robin’s hand, “You have been recovering all that time. It has been a long fight for you to get this far.”</p>
<p>Tears threaten to spill over and Robin whispers, “But I’ve failed everyone. I couldn’t restrain Grima-“</p>
<p>“No, Robin. This is not of your doing. The Chaos Dragon Velezark’s power is unimaginable. It even has the strength to revive other Gods, and twist them into demons through its chaos portals. You have done nothing wrong. Rather, I believe you may have come through with Validar because Grima was in possession of your body but you are here to make peace with such a past and overcome it on this side with the Shield of Flames.” </p>
<p>“Chrom…”</p>
<p>As true as a proposal, Chrom holds Robin’s hand between both of his own and stares deep into the other’s eyes, “I will protect you this time, Robin. We go home together.”</p>
<p>Footsteps echo up into the stairwell, a voice calling in a flurry, “Chrom! King Chrom!” </p>
<p>Robin breathes, becoming more and more aware of time passed he's been aware of, “King..” </p>
<p>He receives a smooth smile, “A story for another time.”</p>
<p>A young nun bursts through the door, sees the two men with their hands intertwined, and breathing to catch her breath enough for words, averts her eyes momentarily. Chrom stands, and says, “Has something happened?”</p>
<p>She pushes a strand of curly dark hair away from her brow that has fallen loose and murmurs, “Oh yes sir. Something magnificent! The Shield of Flames has finally awoken! The Bishop wishes to see you immediately.” Her brown skin seems to glow with the news, high cheeks defined and warm. </p>
<p>“Tell him I will be right down.” Chrom says, and as she bows and takes her leave, shoes clicking finely on the stone he spins to Robin, “What a sign!” He is beaming with the news, and asks, “Do you feel fit to stand?”</p>
<p>Robin tests his strength, lifting himself up onto an elbow. “If you would be so kind as to offer an arm, I believe I can walk.”</p>
<p>They take each step carefully, murmuring between one another and find the closeness so reassuring they are both warm in the face by the bottom of the stairs. Nuns chatter about, making talk and greeting them, a rush of optimism and excitement filling the halls. Robin smiles, the expression coming more naturally than he thought possible, Chrom’s positivity infectious. When they find their way walking past the kitchen, Frederick and Rowan are waiting for what they thought would be just Chrom but both express surprise, and awe and for Rowan, brilliant enthusiasm. </p>
<p>He strides forward, taking hold of Robin’s free hand, eyes aglow, “You are awake! Welcome to Aytolis! You are really most welcome,” The words rush out, “Chrom has said so much of your skills as a tactician and a Shepherd, I’ve been dying to meet you.” He turns briefly to Frederick who has come forward, “Can you believe the timing? You’ve awoken alongside the Shield!” He’s brought a blush to Robin’s cheeks and Frederick places a heavy and honest hand to his shoulder in friendship. </p>
<p>“It is good to see you again, Robin.” They share a meaningful moment of eye contact, Frederick communicating a deep gratitude for the man’s presence, in favor of Chrom’s sake and well-being. Robin remembers the fruition of close companionship, his found family precious and well earned. Frederick’s brow has a new wrinkle between them, causing his face to hold even more seriousness naturally than before. </p>
<p>“Thank you.” He says to the knight then to Rowan, “You’ve been so kind to take me in. Let us go see the Shield.” </p>
<p>Rowan leads, talking of his sister, Lianna and of his land to Robin who still relies on Chrom’s arm to keep himself steady. Frederick walks a step behind, keeping an eye out for ill meaning signs. The presence of strong magic always draws the most wicked. But they find themselves in the shrine for Divine Dragon without issue, Lianna, Lissa and Cordelia all present. Prince Darios is at a far wall, furthest from everyone and at a distance from the candlelit shrine where the glowing Shield sits, awaiting further power. Cordelia sees their mage first and she calls his name with such glowing affection his ears burn. </p>
<p>“Robin! You are awake! Should you be walking?” Her natural concern is healing, and she comes forth, long red hair in a loose low ponytail for the evening. “How do you feel? I hope Chrom was by your side when you woke.”</p>
<p>“Oh my! Robin!” Lissa jumps forward, throwing her arms around him and almost knocking them to the floor if not for Frederick’s steady hand at Robin’s lower back. </p>
<p>Chrom quickly supports one of his lover’s elbows, “Careful!” </p>
<p>Overcome with emotion, Lissa wipes a few tears from her eyes and apologizes, taking hold of Robin’s face with both hands, “You don’t look a bit different!” She sniffs, lips wide with the happiest of smiles. “We’ve been so worried about you. Today is a day of great news!” She beams over her shoulder to Lianna who says, “Hello, Robin. You have met my brother. I am Lianna. You have been quite the talk from Chrom.” Her emerald eyes glow with pleasure, “Welcome to Aytolis.”</p>
<p>It truly feels more than he deserves and when the Bishop comes forward, against the burst of fear to be under the appraisal of a man with divine guidance, he sees there is not a terrible omen lingering behind his back by the delight at his presence. “Young man!” The older man walks even closer, trained in the eye of magic and faith, “There is something… something about you. Maybe it has to do with you both.” He looks between Chrom and Robin who turn to make eye contact, gazes focused on one another, and a bond stronger than fate. Starting with the smallest of sparkles, a glowing, faintly blue light begins to envelope the king, starting from his chest and materializing about Chrom’s entirety. </p>
<p>“You’re glowing!” Robin murmurs, his hand tingling where they touch. Each glowing orb of magic lifts into another, the room whitening in the presence of such raw power. One Gleamstone in the Shield, the only one to have any glow at all is brighter than before, gleaming as if the sun is behind it. </p>
<p>Amazed, eyes full of white blue, the Bishop gasps, “This is it…! The soul of a hero! The divine heart of a true warrior! How, after all this time!” He shuffles forward, legs stiff with astonishment, finger reaching to touch what he knows is not for his hands any longer. Resisting, he speaks to the king, seeing him touch the place above his heart, likely warm with Divine magic. “You have made a vow. One that brings you great power now that you have crossed through the portal to this realm. You have found reason to fight this terrible battle.” </p>
<p>Robin’s heart is beating madly against his chest, his eyes unable to stray from his lover who looks on at him with such tenderness, and loving awareness. Not for great disaster twice but for redemption is he allowed a second chance. To be Chrom’s strength where only he can stand, Robin knows well of the promise made to fortify Chrom’s right to being a hero across the ages. It is a promise made to him. </p>
<p>Lianna has her hands clasped in prayer, Rowan by her side, moved greatly. Their journey depends on the warriors from far finding purpose in this horrific war and the blessing to find one is felt with immeasurable gratitude. When finally, the soul power finishes its role, filling the Gleamstone, the room loses the piercing light, its intensity condensed for rightful use and Chrom, buzzing gently from the ceremony, stops physically radiating, although the contract, the bond has been made. </p>
<p>“Even the air feels lighter!” Lianna murmurs, “The Divine Dragon is speaking to us in her own way. We could not have come even this far without your help, Shepherds. And Robin, I do not believe it a coincidence that you have come to us in such a time. We hope you will aid us in our efforts to seal Velezark.”</p>
<p>Robin, briefly turns his attention to Chrom who is looking upon him as the sun looks upon the moon or even the earth, and says, “I will gladly offer my assistance. I believe here we can change the course of even fate.”</p>
<p>Chrom smiles upon him, his expressive, natural radiance warming Robin’s face at hearing his own assurance from the very person he means it to the most. They shall not squander a reprieve from the Gods, and by the divine Shield, both men see their bond bringing light, Robin unable to deny the hope that was birthed watching Chrom’s vow become literal power to push back the darkness.</p>
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